If this is a little choppy, I totes have reason; this shit is pretty damn good.
Because the constant pain thing is a warning sign of things like perforation and necrotized (is that the right word?) tissue, I went in with my mother (she is capable of tackling me into immobility; slim but wiry, let me point out) and I was put in IV, blood tested, and left to stare at the walls much calmer than I would have expected, because I always forget my bulletproof calming comes down to ritual, and hospitals are professional at the entire ritual stripping of clothing, leaving the world behind you, and hooking you to a blood pressure cuff, pulse finger thing, and an IV bag to leave you contemplating God or try to competitively lower your own blood pressure (personal best: 101/51, pulse 75).
Blood and urine tests (god, urine tests with the complexity of SATs, and I'm sorry, who the fuck has the hand-eye coordination to do all that?) confirmed that everything was just fine in my body (given the entire gall bladder being evil issue) but my resistance to hydrocodone (vicodin) was a problem since the back pain was getting worse every time I ate, even if it wasn't bursting into exciting adventures in intense pain every time. So the plan was to see if they could get the pain thing down and still wait to do a prepared and comfortable surgery and not do it out of the ER. So by one pm, the first try was a low dose of morphine, which was utterly useless; the second was benthyl, a pill to help with spasms amongst the innards (work with me; they named specific innards but I'm pretty stoned right now); the third was a combination of one level up of morphine with benthyl, which a.) brought about druggedness and b.) took away all the pain. So I was let go, with the understanding I had to be at my appointment on Thursday and that surgery was in my near future (aka possibly Thursday itself, but most likely early next week).
(Spent goodly time in ER emailing Madelyn sad pictures of me holding a stuffed bear wearing a hospital gown on a hospital bed while wrapped in sheets and pictures of my IV, while she sent comforting missives that this is better than the prairie, where they would give me a stick and quinine. I have no idea what the stick was for. Best not to find out.)
I'm weirded out by the first dose of morphine not working, actually; the second worked but not with the strong loopy effect, just a mild one, but dear God the sheer ability to swallow without wincing totally loops me out anyway. I took with me two bears (one a gift from svmadelyn that has a pouch for a heating pad) and I honestly felt more shame about the fact I didn't shave my legs.
Note: Shave legs before surgery. And find pound puppy. Am now taking nap because pain free also means I will sleep well and in a normal body position.
I cannot say I am at all looking forward to surgery, but I have to admit that this helped make what's coming seem more familiar. And if this is readable, I am really surprised.
Nap now. *sends hugs* One more week and no one will hear me whine about this again. That's a very good motivator, too.
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